Bloodletter
by The Dirty Quarter
Summary: A vampiric serial killer terrorizes Cyrodiil, traveling the province and leaving a path of death in his wake. As The Bloodletter's reign of fear spreads, it falls to one man, oath-bound to destroy The Bloodletter and all of his kind, to erradicate him.
1. Bloodletting

**AN:** _Hello, everyone! This is my second piece of FanFic on and, after a long hiatus, I'm back. I honestly hope you enjoy this piece, the plot of which took me 3 entire months to finalize. So, without further adieu, I bring you The Dirty Quarter's latest work:_

The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion

**BLOODLETTER**

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own the Elder Scrolls series. The geniuses at Bethesda Software do. Kudos, guys, for making such an awesome series. Also, I have basically completely disregarded the Main Quest, as with most pieces of Fan Fiction. Thusly, I consider no character essential, so if I kill off one of your favorite NPCs, I apologize in advance._

Anvil was usually a quiet town. Situated on the Gold Coast of Cyrodiil, it was fairly popular if you wanted to relax somewhere. It was a decent enough place, if you liked ports, and though sometimes the patrons at the taverns could get a little rowdy (especially at night), the Anvil Watch was usually on top of things.

Jesan Sextius settled into his bed. It had been a rather long day at The Count's Arms, and, alright, he'd admit it, he'd had one or two drinks (Or seven, now that he thought about it). The Imperial shut his eyes, and the combination of bodily fatigue and alcohol carry him away into a land of dreams.

Two hours later, he had a surprise visitor in the night. He was somewhat tall, around the average height of an Imperial. It might've been possible to discern what race he was, if his face wasn't concealed in a black hood. He wore a dark shirt, pants made from green felt, and shoes made of doeskin. The man crouched in front of the door, and pulled a set of lock picks from a pouch. Delicately and carefully, he picked the lock to the front door.

The person opened the door, making very little noise. He searched the house carefully, noting everything, before turning to Sextius in his bed. The intruder pulled back his hood, revealing the somewhat aged and hardened facial features that had been for so long associated with the vampires of Cyrodiil. He was indeed an Imperial, with light, auburn hair and eyes that were once a deep blue, but now only gleamed red. His face was gaunt, and it was evident that the vampire had not fed for quite some time.

The vampire grinned, leaning over the sleeping Imperial. He proceeded to feed upon the sleeping Sextius, his "normal" appearance returning. In a minute or so, he was finished with his macabre meal. He grinned again, flashing white fangs like ivory, before drawing a simple iron dagger from his belt. He clamped a gloved hand over the sleeping man's mouth, causing him to wake.

Before Jesan could scream, the vampire had already slashed his throat. The cut was deep, and Sextius died near-instantly. The vampiric murderer continued to slash the corpse, gleefully smiling. He cut the flesh of the Imperial, cleaving deep lacerations. He only ceased once the dagger broke, its iron blade fragmenting when it hit a bone.

The vampire threw the dagger aside, before raiding Sextius' home. He stole very little, a few sets of clothing, some gold, and a few books. He changed out of his bloody attire, and clothed himself with one of his victim's outfits. Then, he strolled casually out the front door. It would be two days before Sextius' disappearance would be reported by Wilbur, publican of The Count's Arms. The Anvil City Watch would find his mutilated body soon after. By the time this happened, the murderer would have left the area, heading towards Skingrad. He had gotten away with murder, and with the Anvil City Watch barracks next door, nonetheless!

The vampire stepped outside and headed east, confident that no one saw him.

The beggar saw.


	2. Black Horse Courier: Special Edition

**AN:** _Hello again! The second chapter of Bloodletter consists of a Black Horse Courier news article. Other than that, in the next chapter, we'll meet the main character of Bloodletter._

**Disclaimer:** _Nope. I still don't own the Elder Scrolls series._

**THE BLOODLETTER KILLS AGAIN!**  
_Anvil Watch appalled at brutal slaying._  
by Waldorf Wordswell

Anvil is a reasonably nice town. Perfect for people who like fresh, ocean air and friendly Countesses who cheerfully greet passersby during their morning walk. But, it seems that this peaceful port has been the latest site of the activities performed by the infamous Bloodletter.

The Bloodletter began his killing spree 15 years ago, according to the Imperial City Watch. He seems to constantly move about, killing as he travels Cyrodiil. This notorious murderer sneaks into his victim's homes, then kills them and mutilates the bodies. When asked is the Bloodletter had any connection to the "Dark Brotherhood", the assassin's guild in Tamriel, Imperial City Watch Commander Adamus Phillida had this to say.

"I do not believe that these murders are the work of the Dark Brotherhood. I have pursued these assassins during my entire career. This is not their work, of that I am certain."

The victim, Jesan Sextius, was found in his Anvil home two days ago, after being reported missing. Sextius' body was horribly marred, and a broken iron dagger, assumedly the murder weapon, was found in the corner of his bedroom, where the Bloodletter dropped it after the murder.

The Anvil City Watch has no leads at this time, and would like to state that "they are dealing with this crime as efficiently as possible."


	3. Investigation

**AN:** _Okay, third chapter is up. And in this one, we see the Bloodletter's polar opposite._

**Disclaimer:** _I still don't own the Elder Scrolls series. Oh well, at least I own The Bloodletter and all other OCs._

The Count's Arms was doing reasonably well. It had been a week since Sextius had been murdered in his home, and despite the loss of an employee, the tavern had managed to stay in business. The only downside was that now the aspiring musician that had been known as Jesan Sextius would never have the audience with the Countess that he had long dreamed of.

The door to The Count's Arms opened, and the Imperial walked in. He was covered with steel armor, save for his head. A silver longsword was in a sheath at his waist, and a bow made of fine steel adorned his back. His black hair was cut short, and his gray eyes swept over the tavern.

Wilbur, the publican of The Count's Arms, greeted him as the man sat down.

"Hello sir, and welcome to The Count's Arms, the finest inn in Anvil. How may I help you today?"

"I'll have a bottle of brandy, if you don't mind." the armored individual replied. Wilbur left for a moment, then returned with a bottle of Cyrodilic brandy.

"That'll be 80 Septims.' he said, placing the bottle in front of the newcomer. The man responded by setting a small leather bag next to the bottle.

"Here's 100. Now, I was wondering if I could have a little bit of help. I'm looking for someone. He came through Anvil about a week ago. Imperial, about the same height as me. Red-looking hair, looks like he oiled it. You seen him?"

"I'm sorry sir, I haven't seen anyone fitting that description in quite some time." Wilbur responded, taking the bag of gold coins.

"Huh. Well, thanks." the Imperial said, standing and leaving the inn. Outside, a Dunmer wearing a tan robe leaned against the wall of the inn.

"He here?" the Dark Elf asked.

"Unfortunately not. Sextius' boss didn't see him, and given that the man's house was right next to the City Watch barracks, I'd say that our quarry gave this town the slip. And, to make matters worse, Dal, we've got no clue where he went next. It seems as though our old friend The Bloodletter has managed to escape yet again."

Dalam Sendal thought for a second. "Okay, so let me make sure I under stand you here, Perc. In a town of almost 70 people, not one of them saw him?"

"I saw him." Came a voice from their right. The two turned to see a beggar sitting, his back against the wall of the tavern. "I saw him leave Sextus' home a week ago."

Percan Catius' day brighten considerably. "So you saw him? You saw The Bloodletter?"

"Yes, sir. You've got that right." the beggar stood. "I am Penniless Olvus, as I'm known."

"Alright. Then maybe you could help us." Dalam said, no longer leaning on the wall of The Count's Arms.

"Of course. It's just that I can't find a steady job, and therefore I can't eat. Food's pretty cheap in Anvil. I can live a day off of five Septims." He got no further than this before Perc tossed another small leather bag. This one landed right beside the tramp.

"There's fifty in there. Now tell us everything you know."

It wasn't much. Olvus had just seen The Bloodletter enter Jesan's home, then leave. Olvus had followed him a little ways, enough to know which direction he was headed.

"Okay, so according to that beggar, he was heading east. Kvatch, maybe?"

"Maybe, but I doubt it, Dal. Skingrad's bigger, much more to his liking."

"Right...Fifty Septims on a beggar? Just for information?"

"It was good information."

"How much do we have left?"

"Let's see...My brandy cost 100...We've spent 150 Septims."

"And how many did we come to Anvil with?"

"150."

The Dunmer sighed. "I'm telling you, Perc, you've got to learn to be less loose with your gold...Or stop drinking."

Percan smiled a bit. This moment was evidently rather unique, because as far as Imperials went, he was a rather morose one.

"Not a chance. As for cash...Well, apparently, we need to make a little detour."


	4. Detour

**AN:** _Okay, I'm back. Sorry for the delay. My PC got the computer virus-equivalent of God._

**Disclaimer:** _The Elder Scrolls series is owned by Bethesda Software._

It was a rather nice house, on the southern end of Bruma. It was right across the street from the Fighter's Guild's local chapter. It was also fairly close to Olav's Tap and Tack, a local inn that was, according to most people, rather cozy.

Percan unlocked the door, and stepped inside, with Dalam right behind him.

"How come I've never seen your house?" the Dunmer asked. "I've been your partner for what, a year or two now? All I knew about you is that you hunt vampires and that you live in Bruma."

"How come I've never met your wife, then?" the Imperial asked. For him, this was about as close as he got to making a joke.

"Touche, my friend." Dal replied with a light chuckle. Percan opened a cupboard and removed several food items, mostly bread and dried meats. These were then placed into his bag. Joining them were several bottles of alcohol.

Then, he opened the door leading to the cellar.

"Okay, before you go down there, there's no one buried under the floor, is there?"

"No, Dal, there isn't. At least not any that I've buried there."

"That doesn't make me feel any better." the Dark Elf said, as the pair stepped off the stairs. Per opened a barrel in a corner of the basement, and stuck a leather pouch into the container.

"What's in there?" Dalam asked, as the Imperial withdrew the sack and closed it.

"Vampire Dust." he replied.

"Oh."

A day later, Percan knocked upon the door of a house in the Imperial City's Temple District. A Breton in a green shirt and with a brown moustache answered the door. When he saw Percan, he immediately began to smile.

"Ah, Per. Good to see you again! What brings you here?"

"Business, Roland, like always."

"I see. Here to cash in on the Order's bounty again?" the Breton asked, as Per tossed him the bag of dust.

"Five pounds, I see. That comes to...2500 Septims. One moment, please." A minute or so later, Roland returned with a bag. It was stuffed with small, golden discs that went "clink."

"Much obliged, Roland. If I need anymore cash, I'll let you know."

As the pair of them left, Dalam asked, "So...who's your friend? You've been seeing someone other than me?" A glance from Percan shut the Dunmer up immediately.

"Roland's head of the Order of the Virtuous Blood. Group of vampire hunters here in the Imperial City. Pathetic, really. Their only effective method of combat the undead is to offer bounties on any proof of a slain vampire. Now, let's get to Skingrad, shall we?"

The conversation was over.


	5. Paranoia

**AN:** _Sorry for the long hiatus from Bloodletter. I've been busy. Really busy. But, I'm back, and with the fifth chapter, too!_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything related to The Elder Scrolls Series other than this story, and a copy of Morrowind and Oblivion.

Everyone in Skingrad knew Glarthir was crazy. The Bosmer wasn't just a little eccentric, he was whacked-out nutty. And everyone knew it...Except for Glarthir himself. No, the Wood Elf couldn't be crazy, he couldn't be! Because if he was crazy, then Bernadette Peneles and Toutius Sextius and Davide Surilie weren't really conspiring against him, and that he, Glarthir, was just a paranoid lunatic!

And that couldn't be right.

Glarthir was standing around, behind the Great Chapel of Julianos. He'd asked a traveler earlier that day to meet him there at midnight. Perhaps he could finally get the proof he needed of the conspiracy against him, and all by hiring this freelancer. Then, Glarthir's troubles would be over, and after that night, he'd never again have to worry about anyone plotting against him. He had no idea how true that was.

The man the Bosmer had stopped in the street that day had arrived. He walked towards Glarthir, his face concealed in a dark hood. As he approached, he pulled the cowl down. His face was aged and hardened somewhat, making the Imperial appear to be within his mid-forties. His hair was a light auburn color, and he was dressed in a very nice (and expensive-looking) outfit of blue velvet. The man radiated calmness, and that put Glarthir somewhat at ease. The only thing that kept him from being totally off-guard was the man's eyes. There was something about them that made Glarthir just a hair uneasy. They were cold, sharp, and uncaring, much like the eyes of a hawk or another bird of prey. And there was something about their color that definitely caused the Wood Elf to feel a slight sense of discomfort, something he couldn't place.

"You're a few minutes late." the Bosmer said, finally speaking. "Punctuality is very important."

"My apologies." the Imperial replied. His voice was the same as his eyes: cold, unfeeling. "I stopped for a brief snack. I haven't eaten anything all day."

"No matter." Glarthir said. "The important thing is that you're here, and we can begin. I've-"

"Asked me here to spy on certain people, correct?"

"Well...Yes, how did you know?"

"I overheard a conversation in the West Weald Inn. It seems your paranoia is legendary in Skingrad, Glarthir."

"I am NOT paranoid!" the Wood Elf shouted defensively. For someone new to town, this guy was rather impolite. Glarthir was having second thoughts about hiring this guy. What if...No, it was impossible! He couldn't! This traveler couldn't possibly be in the conspiracy against him!

As Glarthir was deep in thought, the man had walked behind him. As soon as Glarthir had finished concluding that the man must be part of the plot against him, he felt something cold, and then warm at his neck. Holding a hand up to his throat, he saw that it came away stained with a crimson hue.

As the Bloodletter's latest victim fell to the ground, he could see his killer walk off into the night. If Glarthir's vocal cords hadn't been severed, he might've been able to call for help. Or, more likely, say "I knew it!"


End file.
